


Sparks Fly

by pendragonfics



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awesome Carol Danvers, Electricity, Electrocution, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Girls Kissing, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Requited Love, Terrigen Crystals (Marvel), gender neutral reader, infintity war and endgame? who's she?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 17:28:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18674224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendragonfics/pseuds/pendragonfics
Summary: Avenger-in-Training ___________, is a mirror. Ever since they burst out of the Terrigen Crystal with newfound abilities, they were picked up by S.H.I.E.L.D., and sent to be trained by the Avengers. But that's the thing - it's hard to concentrate on training when there's a good book, or, better yet, Captain Marvel herself...





	Sparks Fly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ghostlybai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostlybai/gifts).



> I know that I don't owe the internet or anyone on here to update with more fanfiction. But for the last four months, I've found it hard to write because my grandmother was slowly getting sicker. Last week, she passed away, and only now have I found the time/energy to finish this story. This story is sort of dedicated to my late grandmother. She inspired me to get into writing, when I was younger, and couldn't read well at all. 
> 
> Also! This story the brainchild between myself and a good friend who I met on a Discord chat I’m on, Jordan. When we talked of the idea of this fic, she seemed to like the idea of this story when it was just a concept, and it pushed me to actually write it than let it sit in my drafts. Jordan, if you're reading this: I'm sending loads of love from me to you. I haven’t heard from you in ages, and I hope you're well xx

You tried to stay away from her, and yet…there was a magnetism that drew you closer. That was all anyone had to say when they talked of Carol Danvers, the first Avenger. If it wasn’t _everything_ about her that made you want to fall to your knees at her presence, there was her abilities, her eyes that could glare into oblivion or sparkle like nebulas…

You shake your head at the thought of her. There wasn’t a chance that she’d be interested in you, let alone like… _that_. And there wasn’t a chance that she had a clue who you were. Well, apart from the fact that she knew your name, and said hello once in passing in the halls of Stark’s upper New York base…

 _But that was a fluke_ , you reminded yourself. She was _Captain Marvel_. Literally more powerful than the Hulk himself. The tabloids were going off the hook with theories since she’d returned to Earth for good; the story of the poor Carol Danvers, abducted by aliens had been replaced with a mixed review of cynical old men afraid of a powerful woman whose blood ran with energy, and swathes of fans who looked up to her like she was a sun goddess.

Maybe you were just one of those people. You _were_ one of those people. Not in love. Yeah, you weren’t.

You tried to keep to that narrative, but then Tuesday happened.

You were in the workout room, laying on the bench-press with a book. You were supposed to be training; Steve had given you strict orders to not be idle, and yet…the pages of adventure within the cover of _The Martian_ called to you with a stronger song. The Compound was in one of its quiet days; Wanda had taken the week to travel to her hometown to visit her family’s graves, Scott was taking time for family, Thor had found himself a hobby in glassmaking, Bruce and Tony had absconded to Wakanda for a special scientific seminar in the capital, and while Steve and the remaining Avengers took the time to go out for the team-appropriate missions, you were housebound.

It wasn’t too bad, in theory, but it was starting to get to you.

You were almost up to a good part of the book when it was taken from your hands. Furious, you looked up to see James Rhodes striding away with your book, and behind him, Steve.

“I didn’t know you could bench five hundred,” he commented, gesturing to the weights piled onto the side.

Sitting up, you glance at the barbell. It must have been left on from when Thor was somewhat showing off for Dr. Cho yesterday; there was no other people you knew who could even _dream_ to lift that around. But you looked back to Steve, taking in how his jaw was set, elbows jutting out akimbo from resting upon his hips; testing you.

Knowing you’d fail.

“You really do underestimate me,” you reply. Laying down again, you reach for the bar, fingers grasping the metal like a cat latching onto a scratching post. You take a deep breath, knowing most certainly of what will happen - you’ll be crushed. You don’t even mind if it’s because you’d rather do this than admit you’ve been skiving the weights training. “Watch this.”

“___________ -,” Sam interjects, concerned.

But you don’t pay mind. You push upward with all you can, unlatching the bar, and shakily, you lower it. Your abilities are tapping in, mimicking the strength of those closest to you. But even then, it’s _hard_. Steve stands near, and so does Sam and Clint, but you can only tap into one person at a time. One person to copy.

“What is this, a pissing contest?” Carol speaks up, pushing between Clint and Steve. Her eyes are full of fury and her hair starts to spark with static at the rising of her voice. “I get it, Rogers, you’re angry that ___________ didn’t do what you ordered, but five hundred?” She’s incredulous. “You’re going to _kill_ them!”

Steve doesn’t reply, at least, before you feel a jump under your skin. It’s like pins and needles, except it hurts less, and is so much more number. It’s a different feeling than anything you’ve ever gotten from your abilities, and in the moment, you grasp it, holding it under your skin like a pool toy thrust underwater.

And then you’re lifting the weight, once, twice, three - and you continue to do so until you finish a set. At ten, you place it back in the resting place, and sit up to face Steve.

“It’s okay, I’ve got this covered,” you look to Carol with a little smile. Even as the mimic wears off, you feel a little of the burn, and it fills you with a wave of pride course your veins. Turning to Steve, you say, “I get it, you’re sad, but so am I. And obviously I can’t press five hundred by myself, but…” you grin, feeling the pride rising, heating your ears. “A mirror reflects what it sees, and what I see, is a leader who needs to get off my case.”

You walk off, and as you pass James, you grab your book. Just as you’re at the exit, you turn back to the group, and, with your hand posed as if there’s an invisible microphone in your grasp, you drop it, and walk out.

* * *

After that, there seems to be no end to your evasion of Carol; simply because wherever you turned, there she was. Making coffee? She’d be sitting on the kitchen bench, talking with Dr. Banner over scrambled eggs. Chilling out and reading in the common area? She’d be watching reruns of the original series of _Full House_. Taking out the trash? She’d be covered in grease and tinkering with her motorbike. And every single time that you saw her, you became more and more maddened by the feelings you had for her.

It got to the point where something would flare up inside of you at the mere _thought_ of her, which, was unheard of for you. You were a mirror, a mimic. You’d been able to copy anyone with special abilities ever since you’d been subjected to a potent dose of a Terrigen crystal, no exception to the rule. Except…now. You usually needed to have a subject in front of you to copy, but more and more, your body was lighting up with static electricity that zapped at you.

At first, you dismissed the static as just seasonal. It happened to everybody. But when you kept getting little electric shocks, even on things that weren’t conductive, it made you question what you knew. So, you did what you did best in times of confusion: you found an expert.

Dr. Cho had a lab for herself to potter around in - which was code for ‘ _not in the vicinity of Tony Stark’s tinkering’_ \- when she was around the Compound. It was well-lit, nicely organised, and rarely visited by those who weren’t in need of something. Which is why it shocked you - pun intended - to see Tony Stark in the lab. Well, it shouldn’t have. He owned the whole place, and it _literally_ paid to be a friend of his.

“Mirror-Mirror, fancy seeing you here,” he greeted you with a signature smile. “What brings you to my favourite medic’s wing?”

“Mr. Stark,” Dr. Cho shook her head, “This is the _only_ medic’s wing in the building.”

You chuckled at Helen’s response, but answered the Iron Man. “Well, Shell-Head, I happen to need a doctor.” You gave him a wan smile, approaching he and Dr. Cho slowly, “and while Dr. Banner _can_ practice a few different kinds of medicine, I so-happen to prefer this practitioner.”

Helen beamed. “You’re too kind, ___________.”

At that, you went to walk toward them. But it seemed that with every step that you took toward the two out of three parents of Ultron (and ultimately, Vision), your body lit up with the electricity. It felt like the static you’d use to get as a kid by touching too-hot car doors or the play-ground slippery-dip, but much, _much_ worse. With every step it worsened, until it got too much, and leaning onto a bench, your fingers zapped at the tabletop, and raised the hair on your arms.

“If it’s not too much,” you whimpered, “I need a diagnosis, please.”

Strangely enough, Stark left without another word, leaving you alone with a very perplexed doctor before you. She approached tentatively and touched one of your limbs with a plastic rod. The both of you watched as it conducted a little electric zap. Humming in approval, she looked to you.

“This looks like something I’m not quite sure of…” she frowned, and touching your hand with her bare hand, received no shock at all. “That’s curious…” she whispered.

“Everything about me at the moment is curious,” you whined, placing your head flush against the bench. A zap echoed as your forehead touched the metal, and you winced. “ _Ow_.”

* * *

Until the medical professionals work out why you’re a walking phone charger, you’re benched from Avengers activities. Which, even if you weren’t actively doing before, kind of bums you out now. Being stuck in your room is nobody’s picnic, and even after you finish watching all the available episodes of _The Good Place_ on the streaming service, you’re still full of energy.

Damn the sparkles. Damn your abilities. Damn _everything_.

Simmering with activity, you push your laptop away, and begin to pace the room. But even then, you stop, because looking down, you realise that you’ve started to scorch the floating floors around your room with distinct foot-shaped sears. Deciding against running a hand across your face for fear of accidently frying it, you look to the window, and see the fire escape. It was a remanent of the past, when Howard Stark had this facility kitted out to be something of a base than as a living area for people who were the Earth’s first and last line of defence.

Since there’s no-one around to say no, you go to the window, and clambering out, climb onto the roof. Once up there, you’re met with silence. It’s not a bad kind of silence, like when you’re alone with your thoughts and trapped in a crystal catacomb by a terrorist. It’s…good. It’s a clear night, but on the horizon, behind the still-fading sun, there’s a storm brewing. You can tell by the clouds. Thor is still away in Italy, so it can’t be him. You settle into a comfortable position and watch as it creeps over the hills.

But it doesn’t. It’s the most curious kind of sunset, and in almost a doomsday fashion, the bright spot comes nearer. If you weren’t an Avenger-in-Training, you’d be considerably more afraid. But since you regularly interacted with weird things and once met _the_ Wolverine (who was horrified at your abilities, by the way), you kept your cool. Which was good. Because as the bright spot neared, you started to see a face, and you recognised the meteor-esque flying object to be none other than Carol Danvers.

She landed ceremoniously beside you, sitting with her knees raised, hands resting upon them. Her suit looked so good, and even better with her in it. Just thinking that made your feel a flush of embarrassment, and as she looked to you, you ducked your head into your chest.

“Any news?” she says, giving you a smile that made your heart flutter.

You blink, mind blanker than a fresh ream of printing paper. “…”

Carol leans back onto the roof, gazing at the sky that coated the world around you with a growing smattering of stars. “About the zapping thing you’ve got.” She says. You must look visibly mortified, and she adds, “I talked to a couple of people. It doesn’t look fun.”

You look at your hands. Bringing your fingers near to one another, you watch as little shocks traverse between them. “To be honest, I’m not sure if it’s so bad.”

Carol nods. “I didn’t like my thing when I first got it,” she says, bringing two fists to her chest, and with a pumping motion, shoots two photon beams from her body. “…but it depends on how you look at it.”

Your brain is almost like static, but you manage to process her words. “it’s just…when I got hit with the crystal, I thought I knew what I was. I’m a mimic, and yet, I’m like a walking Vegas light show for some reason.”

Carol laughs, and says, “Have you been to Nevada?”

“Not for a while.”

“Well, when you’re not grounded to this base, and I’m not on a mission, let’s go.” She tells you. “It’s been a while since I was last there.”

You feel your pulse quicken under your skin, and as you swallow, you feel your skin prickle with static. “You want to go? With me?” you ask, dumbfounded.

Carol nods. “Yeah. Well, because Maria has her own Captain Trouble to take care of these days, and while I’m sure Stark would love to take a trip down to the desert, I’d rather go with you.”

The sun has started to properly set now. The sky has begun to pick up colours through the clouds in the sky, and the stars that glisten on the other side of the horizon sparkle like diamonds or shards of glass. It’s like a Bob Ross painting, and you’re in it, and so is Carol.

“Why me?” you wonder, voice small.

She beams, like the shooting star that she is, and leans close. She and you are the only ones outside, and other than who’s in the base, the only ones for miles. She doesn’t need to lean close to you, but she does.

“Because,” she says, slowly, tantalisingly, “I’m kind of into you.”

“Holy shit,” you whisper. It’s not the ideal answer, but Carol’s face lights up at it. “That’s…I like you too,” you tell her, so quiet, that it could almost be carried away with the wind. But she heard it. Slowly, you felt a magnetism again, and this time, stronger than ever. Your hands touched hers, and leaning closer, you felt yourself drawing toward her, closer, closer -

“___________,” Carol breathes, your name heavenly in her mouth, “You’re _glowing_.”

Opening your eyes, you see that you are. Like a Christmas tree strung with so many battery-powered globes.  You watch as it dims, but instead of it fading away, the light that had encompassed you, all the sparks that flew and the fireworks that boomed in your belly, they passed through your hands, seeping into Carol’s skin.

You retract your hand from hers, and as you replace it to lean once again on the roof, you miss the feeling that came before.

“I’m not static anymore,” you gasp.

Carol shivers, unbidden. From her shoulders, sparks fly. “I think I’m your cure, then.”

“Hell yeah you are,” you grin, closing the distance between your mouth and hers once again.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr on as @chaotic--lovely, and if you want to request a fic, check out [@pendragonfics](https://pendragonfics.tumblr.com/request_conditions)! ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ✿


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